Archive for S

I’m a Blog Tease and a Barnes & Noble Whore

I just completed a Barnes & Noble online purchase because in the week I finished two books. Refer to The Bookcase to see where $26.28 of my disposable income went.

Oh, and S. came to visit me this weekend…

News Flash: Men Have Insufficient Communication Skills

It’s 6:58a.m. and I’m awake even though my alarm won’t go off until 7:16a.m. (I always set my alarms with obscure times, it’s one of my many OCD habits).

Why am I awake?

Because S. decided it was time to call me back. At 6:11 a.m. Normally, I wouldn’t have answered but considering he is on a cross-country adventure with little cash, I thought it might be an emergency.

I was wrong.

He met some drunk Irish guys and wanted me to talk to them. I talked to them for 10 minutes, and hung up. I tried to go back to sleep and was obviously not successful. So, being groggy from the absurd wake up call and bitter that he hadn’t called me back concerning my voice mail, I called him. And I yelled, well, whisper yelled. He got the point.

After my tirade, he said, “It’s good to hear your voice. I miss you. I’ve thought about you a lot on this trip.”

Really?

At 6 in the morning?

Talk to me when I’ve gotten my beauty sleep, bud.

Click.

But I didn’t hang up, because I think I’m still holding on…

photo cred: http://www.spybusters.com/blog/labels/Hack.html

67 Ways to Keep Men Interested: These Tips Will Blow Your Mind

First of all, call the false advertisement police, this post will not have 67 ways to keep men interested. I wish I knew one way to keep men interested or, hell, keep one good man interesting, but I’ve yet to figure out either. My friends, however, think I’ve got it down:

FriendyMcFrienderson(12:19:29 AM): how do you keep men interested

Audreyesque1 (12:19:37 AM): WHAT?

Audreyesque1 (12:19:41 AM): are you kidding?

Audreyesque1 (12:19:43 AM): you’re asking me this?

FriendyMcFrienderson (12:19:49 AM): no I’m not kidding

FriendyMcFrienderson (12:20:48 AM): nevermind, i’ll just look on cosmo.com

Ahh, Cosmo and the false hopes it gives women each month as they stand in the checkout line, deciding which new flavor of Orbit gum they should buy. Speaking of which, how many do they have now and how do I get that job… official gum-flavor-maker-upper for Orbit.

But I digress…

My friend’s IM arrived simultaneously with this pleasant bit of online chatter from my current ex friend-boy:

JustAnothaPEN15(11:08:21 PM): i’ve just begun to resent you for the rest of my life.

Ouch.

I’m not a member of the she-woman man-haters club so before I start sounding like I’m bashing this guy, I should preface by saying I’m confused. My whole quasi-relationship with… let’s call him S… has been half-Nicholas Sparks’ novel, half-Fatal Attraction. We don’t live anywhere near each other and we’ve only seen each other 3 times, but there’s a genuine affection that stems from the deep communion we share. Essentially, we’re both crazy and need psychiatric help so we bond over that, but you know, deep communion sounds a lot more romantic.

Anyway, S. has severe admiration for talented musicians who are true to their art, or some shit. His favorite artists include the Beatles, Crowded House, and some guy named—actually, I don’t even remember, but this guy is why S now resents me. See, S and I aren’t very good at debating, especially when it comes to music because, well, I usually just don’t care. I like what I like, whether it’s the Beatles or Fleetwood Mac or the latest Carrie Underwood song. There’s no pattern to my iPod—it is what it is.

Not S. He meticulously determines which songs have value and which don’t, and he tries to argue with me even though, news flash, HE’LL ALWAYS WIN because the only technical thing I understand about music is that it magically travels from my iPod to my ears and makes me dance awkwardly when I’ve consumed too much whisky. So S made me listen to this guy and I found him pretty boring. When I told S this, he got defensive and wanted to have a debate about why this guy is capable of curing cancer with his guitar. To which I replied, “I don’t want to talk about this, because I know we’ll end up fighting and it really doesn’t matter.”

Mature enough, right?

S’s response: you can’t debate like an adult because you’re insecure and fucked up.

Say what?!

If this were a 1999 teen flick, Usher’s record would have just come to a screeching halt as the room full of wannabe prom queens and kings fell eerily silent so that they could stare at me covered in pig’s blood (oops, combining decades there).

For two hours, we argued. Ad-hominem attacks were slung, ignored phone calls took place, and an eventual ceasefire that ended in silence from both parties was called. Now, I don’t know where S and I stand, which is nothing new when it comes to us. Except this time, I’m not crying. This time, I’m a lot calmer. This time, I’m not so worried about the future.

Because, when it comes down to it, I’m not sure if there’s a particular pattern you can follow to keep anyone interested. If they’re interested, they’ll stay that way without any help.

Time to go read He’s Just Not That Into You. For the 108th time… this year.